The sky above the black castle where Sylvia now resided was gray that day, with a silent overcast pressing down upon the surrounding land like a weight of eternal stillness. A thin mist blanketed the castle grounds and the training fields, making the movements of the patrolling zombies appear as vague shadows in a never-ending nightmare.
Inside the castle, the atmosphere was no brighter. The faint magical glow from black crystals embedded in the ceiling spread like weary breath, casting long shadows along the stone walls. Sylvia's main study once used only occasionally had now become the place where she spent most of her time.
Stacks of reports, maps, field notes, and magic seal schematics filled the large obsidian desk. The only constant rhythm in the room was the sound of a quill pen dancing swiftly across parchment.
